Very tearful day. Don't know why - completely out of the blue but really sad. Just want to sit in a corner, curled up, and sob. Got to shake this off.
R home and delightful. She's made me a cup of tea - and I didn't have to ask for one! She's so beautiful and a real consolation is that everyone says how polite and lovely her nature is - it would appear that she saves the alter ego for me alone - which is actually a good thing. Would rather that than the other way around.
Why do I just want to cry all the time. The weather is adorable and instead of having the usual positive influence it irritates me, because today I just want the grey skies and rain. Why do my moods sway so violently. Just want to be perverse I suppose.
When C was la little boy he was actually a bit odd.
As a babe in arms he couldn't stand loud noise - if I took him to a birthday party he'd howl when the assembled sang 'happy birthday', I'd have to leave the room and pace up and down cuddling him and reassuring him that everything was OK. Then he had the dark side of wanting to escape all the time. It was so scary because he was always very devious with his methodology, he'd lull you into a false sense of security and then in a flash he was gone. Can still see my father with his pince-nez spectacles on the end of his nose screwing the bolt onto C's bedroom door in Liverpool - yes I had to lock him in his room at night or he would have been off into the darkness.
And boy did he hate his sister when she was born. H was always such a loving child and when C arrived, I lay in my hospital bed and suddenly heard this little voice walking down the ward saying 'it's my brother you know, and I'm going to look after him'. And sure enough H plonked himself on the bed next to me and said 'give me my brother please'. But C was so different with R.
He first tried to kill her when she was a day old. We had a chitty-chitty-bang-bang antique car horn and the father had taken the new-born downstairs to give me some rest, and I suddenly heard the unmistakable shriek of terror from a very new infant. It transpired C had whacked her over the head with said antiquity, mercifully only inflicting injury.
Then he refused to speak for a month after her arrival. No one could make him utter a response to anything. We cuddled and hugged and begged and questioned and all we received in return was a stony stare and no sound. It was H who finally managed to make him communicate again. We had spoken to the doctor about the muteness and were told not to acknowledge it, often children retreat from speaking when they are traumatised by something, and we were told to act as normal. But H completely ignored that and continually questioned him, and after many days finally frantically tickled C, who threw his hands around and was furious with himself because he broke his vow of silence and shouted 'no H, stop it'.
The whole thing wasn't helped because he had tonsillitis when she was born, and the father had to return to work after a couple of days, so I literally didn't sleep for a week because I'd go from settling the baby down to dealing with an ill, silent C. Then, when R was a month old and sitting in her bouncy chair we thought he had finally grown to love her because he bent down to give her a kiss, but the little girl began to scream and shake because it wasn't as we thought, and he'd actually tried to bite her nose off.
Still, he loves her now and she loves him. Aren't children strange.
H in good form and preparing for his finals next week. My how time flies.
Hopefully everyone safe.
Speak soon. A soldier's Mum x
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